


teach myself how to die

by sinkburrito



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e14-15 The Boiling Rock, F/F, an overwhelming sense of doom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25579414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinkburrito/pseuds/sinkburrito
Summary: They have a quiet understanding. There is no love in the Fire Nation, not in Azula’s city, and certainly not between two girls. They are not in love, because love does not exist here, and even if it did, there would be no talking of it. Instead, they have a wordless bond, one that manifests in the way that Ty Lee can read Mai like a book and how Mai always knows when Ty Lee is upset. Azula’s blue fire scorches everything that could burn brighter than itself, so Mai and Ty Lee very deliberately do not burn. And if they did, they would hide that little light, hide it from the wind and the fire and the horrible storm that rages around them. But they don’t, and they aren’t, so it doesn’t matter.(a look at mai and ty lee and how they got to the boiling rock)
Relationships: Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 69





	teach myself how to die

**Author's Note:**

> title from mitski's "brand new city" which the whole thing very much vibes with the fire nation kids and especially ty lee  
> anyways here have some mailee angst

Ty Lee has known how she is going to die since she was nine years old. That was the age that she had watched Azula push another girl off a bridge and laugh. An accident, the official report read when the girl had gone to a healer for her broken leg, but everyone knew it was Azula. No one said anything. Ty Lee had looked over at Mai and grounded herself in Mai’s stoic silence and calmed her racing heart and thought,  _ that will be me one day. _

Ty Lee does not hate life. She cherishes the sunrise in the morning, the cup of tea that starts her day, and the exhilarating feeling of gymnastics. She likes to go shopping with Mai and her favorite type of pastry is raspberry tart. Ty Lee likes being alive, and she wants to prolong that as long as possible and she wants to enjoy it while she has it. So she takes a deep breath every morning and forces the doubt and the guilt and the anxiety  _ down down down  _ and faces the new dawn with a smile.

She compliments Azula on how her new bracelets match her eyes and she does not allow her gaze to linger on Mai. No, the focus must always be on Azula. Watching Azula, placating Azula, guarding Azula, serving Azula. Only when Azula leaves can Ty Lee relax. Only when Azula is busy can Ty Lee lean against Mai’s side and braid her long, silky hair. Only when Azula is asleep can Ty Lee press gentle kisses to Mai’s head, her cheek, her lips. 

It’s okay. Ty Lee spends most of her time working for these moments, but they’re worth it. A touch of the hand, a soft smile, made extra special by the fact that Mai doesn’t smile for anyone; not even Azula. Well, not a real smile. Ty Lee can always tell. She’s good like that. When Azula dismisses the frivolity of Ty Lee’s wish to see a firebending show near the palace with a wave of the hand, it is Mai who accompanies her, holds her hand in the clamor of people, and allows Ty Lee to rest her head on her shoulder during the show. 

They have a quiet understanding. There is no love in the Fire Nation, not in Azula’s city, and certainly not between two girls. They are not in love, because love does not exist here, and even if it did, there would be no talking of it. Instead, they have a wordless bond, one that manifests in the way that Ty Lee can read Mai like a book and how Mai always knows when Ty Lee is upset. Azula’s blue fire scorches everything that could burn brighter than itself, so Mai and Ty Lee very deliberately do not burn. And if they did, they would hide that little light, hide it from the wind and the fire and the horrible storm that rages around them. But they don’t, and they aren’t, so it doesn’t matter.

Ty Lee does not think of how she will die, even though she sees it every day. It is just an inevitability, like the sun and the rain and the war. What Ty Lee thinks about is how Mai will die. Mai has trouble holding her tongue, hiding, pretending. Mai’s only shield is her silence and apathy, and she has no role to play when things get rough. One day, Mai will  _ care _ . And that will be the day she dies. And when Mai dies, Ty Lee will die. This is the way of the world; it’s just how things work, like how Azula will always be right and how the Fire Nation will win the war.

Ty Lee doesn’t know Zuko well. An angry, tumultuous boy who doesn’t know how to hide; Ty Lee gives him a wide berth. Mai does. Mai talks to him, sometimes. That was her mistake. When Azula sees an opportunity to build her perfect world, she doesn’t take no for an answer. This is how Mai learns to act, like Ty Lee did. This is how Mai starts to care about things outside of their little bubble. This is how Mai starts to die. Ty Lee knows this when she sees Mai cracking a small smile at Zuko. It’s just a twitch of the lips, a hairline crack in a perfect vase. But Ty Lee knows better. Tiny cracks lead to big cracks.

She’s almost relieved when he’s gone, that boy fuller of fire than Azula ever was. Now things can be normal; now Mai is safe. But Mai will never be safe when Azula is alive, not in Omashu, not in the circus, and certainly not in Caldera City. Ty Lee watches her wait and bide her time and she thinks,  _ stay, don’t go, don’t ruin it. _

When Mai’s father is sent to Omashu, Ty Lee knows she cannot go with her. Instead, she gasps a choked goodbye into her ears and runs off to the circus, always moving, always looking over her shoulder.  _ At least Mai is safe, _ she thinks, imagining her friend behind the imposing walls of Omashu. When she sees the pointed boot again, Ty Lee has a split second to scramble and swallow down the vomit and slip into her old role again. 

“I thought you ran off to join the circus,” Mai comments as Ty Lee leaps into her arms. They embrace for a moment, carefully timed, before Ty Lee pulls back. “I thought it was your calling.”  _ I thought you got out. I thought you escaped. _

“Well, Azula called a little louder!” Ty Lee chirps, aware of the princess’s gaze on her back like a magnifying glass in the hot sun.  _ Not from her.  _

At least they are together now, Ty Lee muses as she chi-blocks the waterbender. At least they can have their stolen moments back. 

Mai pretends she doesn’t care. Ty Lee knows this to be a lie; she approves. It’s a good explanation for why Mai didn’t follow the Avatar’s compatriots through the drill outside of Ba Sing Se, why she let the Earth King’s bear free without a fight. Ty Lee knows she did these things because she cares too much. Mai wants to lose, to break free, to do the right thing for once. Ty Lee can only pray that Mai’s cool head and sense of self-preservation will stop her.

Zuko’s return marks the beginning of the end of the world. They’re strung so tightly, the gears are running out of oil, and the cracks are starting to get bigger. Mai is growing tired of acting, Zuko of being perfect, and Azula of being imperfect. 

Ty Lee hates Ember Island with a passion. They were dysfunctional, but they  _ worked _ , and why did they all have to go and get worked up and force everyone to crack? Azula admits her jealousy, and Ty Lee feels a little crack in her heart, too. It wasn’t always like this. She used to love this girl. She still does, in a way that was more than diluted by fear and pity. Azula allows more of herself to shine through on this night than Ty Lee has seen in years, and when it’s time to perform, Ty Lee does not weep for herself.

Because of course it’s a performance; Azula is too smart to think Ty Lee is bubbly  _ all _ the time, so she has to deliver a rousing monologue on individuality and attention, something gift wrapped with a sliver of truth to deliver to Azula to pass judgement. Ty Lee knows something is going to happen, and she has to be the weak link so they can all save face. 

All evening, Mai has been nearing her breaking point. Zuko, eternally embroiled in his own struggles, misses the way that Mai is losing control. Ty Lee doesn’t. She knows that Mai is tired, has been for a long time. Mai is straying dangerously close to treason, and she’s filling up with righteous anger. That’s dangerous.

They’re at the beach and it all starts coming down, as if suddenly all the stars in the sky begin a horrible, terrifying descent and hurtled towards the earth. They’ve both known for a long time that what they were doing was wrong. How could they not? Not when they stood at Azula’s side. But Ty Lee had thought they had an understanding: following Azula brings safety, following Azula means they can be together, as close as they’ll ever get. They’re in too deep now, and this is as safe as they’ll get when Azula knows them, knows their weaknesses.

“You don’t know me!” Zuko scoffs.  _ Yes, I do, _ Ty Lee thinks. She knows exactly who he is, has known for years. She knows all about Zuko’s yearning for his father’s love, a nation’s pride, a family and honor. She knows he’ll never have any of those things; he’s too volatile. He doesn’t know how to act. He doesn’t know how to  _ act _ . He won’t survive here.

Mai settles down, goes back to pretending to love Zuko, and Ty Lee placates Azula’s pride. There are no more masks, no more pretending, until everything is smashed and they put the pieces back next to each other and pretend that they were never smashed at all. Ty Lee hates him and his mark of defiance, his lack of mask, and the way he escapes all of this.

Azula scoffs at her one day, when she’s not quick enough to hide the way Mai’s dry chuckle entrances her. 

“Poor Ty Lee,” she mocks, once Mai and Zuko have continued their promenade past them, “Wanting things she can’t have.” She sounds supremely satisfied with the pain she’s caused, and all Ty Lee can do is cling to the fact that she knows that what they have isn’t real. What she can’t ignore, though, is how Mai genuinely cares for the wayward prince. 

“He’s going to be the end of you!” she cries tearfully after Mai returns from visiting the palace. “He doesn’t belong here, you know that! He’s going to drag you down with him!” 

Mai scowls. “So what? He needs someone to be there for him, and maybe I need someone too.” 

“You have  _ me _ ,” Ty Lee counters.

“Maybe I want someone who doesn’t act all the time,” Mai snipes.

“I don’t act around you,” Ty Lee answers quietly. “Never around you.” 

Mai’s frown softens and she sighs. “I know.”

Mai does nothing to stop Ty Lee from crashing into her and holding her tight, standing stone still as Ty Lee sobs into her chest. She can’t lose Mai.

“I know,” she says softly, “But he has a good heart. A brave one. I look at him and have hope, you know? I wish you could see him the way I do.”

When Zuko leaves, again, Ty Lee says nothing to Mai, only strokes her hair as Mai crumples his letter in her fist.

“How could he do this to me?” she mutters, trembling in anger. Ty Lee rubs her back soothingly. “He should have taken me with him,” she whispers. Ty Lee’s hand stills for a moment, then continues. “Both of us.”

  
  


Ty Lee knows the  _ day _ she will die when Mai ignores Azula’s calls and dashes to the gondola. Mai has grown tired, has been for a long time, and that quiet fire inside of her is growing. 

“I love Zuko more than I fear you,” Mai proclaims, but Ty Lee knows what she means. Mai loves the way that Zuko broke free, the way a Fire Nation prince can find himself on the right side of history and make a difference. Mai wants something real, something imperfect, something that burns hotter than blue. Mai wants to be somewhere else, to know something else, to know what it is to live in a world where they can be free.

“Then maybe you should have feared me more!” Azula screams, and Ty Lee aches for the girl she once knew, just for a second. She knows Azula has to rule the world, and she knows Mai has to save it, along with Zuko and everything he represents. And Ty Lee knows that she has to save them both. Then she darts forward and jabs expertly at the chi points on Azula’s body. She turns to see Mai finally  _ crack _ , wide eyed and gaping. Ty Lee has always been afraid, has always ignored it and justified it and thrown it away, but now she allows it to course through her body like an electric surge because she’s always known she would die like this but spirits, she didn’t think it would be so  _ soon.  _ She stares at her own hands in shock, unable to believe that she has just started her own personal doomsday clock.

She takes Mai’s hand wordlessly as they are surrounded by guards and exhales evenly. Mai turns to face her and Ty Lee leans her head forward, not ready to look Mai in the eye. Mai presses a gentle kiss to her head and Ty Lee laughs through her sobs. She leans into Mai and forces herself to not squeeze her eyes shut and shut out the world. 

Ty Lee tilts her head up to see Mai, and is caught off guard by Mai’s grin. Mai looks happier than Ty Lee can ever remember her being, and it is like something has been lifted off her shoulders. Ty Lee doesn’t understand, trembling in fear and trepidation. How can Mai be happy? They’re going to  _ die. _ Their life was nowhere near perfect, not even good, but it was something. 

“Thank you,” Mai whispers, and Ty Lee can barely hear it over Azula’s screams and the barked orders of the guards. There is no escape. No way off the island, past battalions of guards, past Azula. The end of the world comes as rough hands shove Ty Lee and Mai into a cell and Ty Lee thinks about all the things she’s done and all the things she didn’t do and the little things she’s enjoyed and she thinks,  _ it wasn’t worth it. not for this. not for this. _

There’s blood on her hands, as sure as Azula’s, and Ty Lee knows that love isn’t supposed to be selfish like she is. And she knows, she finally knows, why Mai smiled. It’s like a heavy anvil has been lifted from her heart and she hadn’t even known was there. She knows why Zuko left, even though there was little hope.  _ We did something _ , she thinks,  _ even if it might have been too late _ . At long last, Ty Lee has lived for something.

“When we get out of here,” Mai says, breaking the silence, “We should move to a brand new city. A place where no one knows us.”

“A place where we can start over,” Ty Lee continues quietly. She gazes over at Mai’s hunched form in the other corner of the cell and she can’t remember a time that either of them knew how to live without the shadow of Azula hanging over their heads. “A place where we can be together.”

Mai jerks her eyes up to meet Ty Lee’s sharply. They’ve never said it before. Ty Lee had thought they didn’t need to, but she wants so badly to be able to do things like this, to tell Mai. Call it a doomsday present.

Ty Lee manages a trembling smile. “I love you, Mai. You’re the only person I’ve ever really loved.” 

Mai blinks. Once. Twice. Ty Lee knows she’s evening out her breathing rate by the look on her face and the rise of her shoulders. 

“I know,” Mai says finally, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I—“ Her voice cracks,

“It’s okay,” Ty Lee assures her. “I know.”

“We didn’t have enough time,” Mai says. “It’s not fair.”

“I still got to know you,” Ty Lee offers. “At least I had that.”

Mai chuckles darkly. “Great consolation prize.” 

“When we get out of here,” Ty Lee says, spurred by a sudden burst of desperation, “We’re going to have a little cottage in the Earth Kingdom. Just the two of us. I’ll grow peonies in the front, and you can grow your nightshade in the back. We’ll get a cat, and you can pick the name if I can name every turtleduck in the pond behind the cottage. We’ll sit on a bench in the back and watch the sun set every day. I promise.”

Mai is crying now, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. “I’m gonna hold you to that, hummingbird,” she croaks, using the nickname she gave the flighty acrobat when they were just kids.  _ Just kids _ , Ty Lee thinks, but aren’t they still just kids?

Ty Lee crawls across the dirty floor and holds Mai tight, rocking together like tangled signposts in a violent wind, holding fast to each other. This is how they are when Azula opens the door and death comes for them at last.  _ Finally, finally, _ the hummingbird sings,  _ free at last _ .

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Azula does not kill them. Instead, she throws them away and focuses on more important matters, like not turning out like Zuko. Mai and Ty Lee tether each other through the long weeks before finally, the door opens and Zuko is there, his guilty face shining in the light of the doorway, illuminating his Firelord hairpiece. 

“I’m sorry I took so—“ Zuko apologizes, and the words are knocked out of him as Ty Lee crashes into him. She understands now, what she sees in him. 

“Thank you,” she breathes. She looks up at Mai’s warm hand on her shoulder and sees the crumpling relief on Zuko’s face. 

“So, we have some things to talk about,” Mai says, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips and it’s all Ty Lee needs.

  
  
  
  
  


Mai and Ty Lee build a house, deep in the woods of Kyoshi Island. Ty Lee kneels in the fresh dirt to plant her peonies, humming quietly to herself. The scent of bread wafts through the open window and Ty Lee smiles at the thought of Mai baking bread, something new, something she’d never done when-- before. Something to come home to and greet her as she walks through the front door. Ty Lee strokes the head of their fat cat, Raspberry Tart, and kisses Mai hello before taking a seat at their table. Death suits the two of them, or at least, alleged deaths according to official Fire Nation documents. Here, in the middle of nowhere, they have nothing to hide, nothing to pretend, nothing to mask. Ty Lee takes a bite of bread and learns how to live.


End file.
